


Ghosts

by InnerSpectrum



Series: Sherlock December Ficlets 2017 [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Sherlock December Ficlets 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-14 00:40:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12996054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: The past catches up to the master criminal...





	Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> This is a part of the [Sherlock December Ficlets ](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fcollections%2FSherlock_December_Ficlets_2017&t=NjRmODc4ZjE3OGJjNjUzYzg2NWVhY2QzMTRjNDJmOTUwMzdkOTRhMCxabzFVQjBkMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AfMPAp7-tN-90HMCNGHRDOw&p=http%3A%2F%2Fmissdaviswrites.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167644180668%2Fsherlock-december-ficlets&m=0) challenge. Each will be its own story, though knowing me a couple may follow an arc of sorts.  
> The prompt used for this entry: Ghosts of Christmas Past / Wrapped up

Snow had fallen throughout the night. A thick blanket that did little to impede the holiday spirit or spending. The blue-eyes blond watched, as a parent who lived across the street attempt to sneak shopping bags into his home in the hopes his children were still asleep. A part of him chuckled seeing one should be sleeping child peek from an upstairs window. Happy Christmas memories of having been that peeking child ghost his psyche for a moment. The good times before everything went… No. He wouldn’t go there – no point.  He shook off the haunting, imagining the snark his boss would have over his wasting time reminiscing, if one can call it that, and the domestic scene before him now. He turned from the window and pressed a key on the console in the private communications room waking the monitors. The monitors lit up then turned to the preset news channels he had programmed from all the cities in which his boss had major dealings.

He casually scanned the various news inputs as he did each morning. Yes, they had a team that scanned the local news and the internet for anything might be of interest for the boss. His job was to scan through those things that might be a danger to him. Okay, it wasn't his exact JOB per se, but it was his mission to keep the boss and his interests thriving at all costs. For him that included searching for potential threats in places others may not think to search. Such as fluff news segments from other cities. His boss used to mock him for it. Then one day Sebastian’s scanning revealed someone who had been hiding from his boss for nearly a year. The man was merely a passerby in the background trying to get past the filming of a live news segment in Shanghai, still he was him. He informed his boss of the discovery and had the man killed a day later. It was a message the sent ripples across the syndicate. Hide all you want to. Cross the boss you will be found someday and when you are? Well, enough said. Such scanning has proved fruitful to the running of the crime world in which they held court in several ways since then.The boss never said a word after that.  

Thus, he was half listening to fluff pieces from New York City when a segment about a 14-year-old prodigy who had won a full scholarship to Oxford in the fall came on. He heard the child’s name and looked up. He then cursed profusely as hot coffee spilled in his lap from the mug that slipped from his fingers as he looked at the child. He paused all the monitors and cleaned up the coffee before he switched the segment to the main monitor and simply stared at the screen. They say everyone has a twin, but the resemblance was uncanny. Granted there was a roughly twenty-something age difference, but still it is too uncanny to be a coincidence. The dark hair, the complexion, the captivating eyes. All he could think was that he could not possibly be seeing what he thinks he is seeing, because things like this _Do. Not. Happen_. to his boss. No, not to that man. He went to some violent extremes at times to ensure it does not happen.

So how in the hell did this happen?

He was still staring at the screen in stunned silence when his boss walked in, looked up from the papers in his hands and froze.

Over a decade of working with the man, killing for the man, he had come to see a myriad of expressions cross the face of a man notoriously known for his dangerously mercurial moods. However, honest to goodness dumbfound gobsmacked was one he had never seen until today. It was then he noticed the only thing that was different between the two. The prodigy had a small mole on his chin, just right of his bottom lip, something that his boss did not have. It was a twin to the one that graced the chin of the beaming woman standing beside him, clearly the prodigy's mother. 

“Eve…” The stunned voice was low, reverent, almost a whisper as his boss walked to the main monitor showing the largest image of the young doppelganger and the mother. His boss then did something else he had never seen before. He tenderly caressed the face of the smiling image on the screen, his thumb caressing the mole.

The mole on the mother's face.

His boss looked for all the world as if he could have climbed through the screen and wrapped the woman tenderly in his arms, he would have.

His boss looked for all the world as if he could have climbed through the screen and then put a bullet in the woman's head, he would have.

“Boss?” Sebastian Moran dared to speak, the tension in the room was simply too much. “Who is he?”

"Ghost of Christmas past..." Though his hand stayed on the monitor as he continued to run an idle thumb over the televised mole, James Moriarty turned and faced his personal body guard, his business partner, his sniper, his lover. 

“Don’t be dense Sebs, you see his name on the screen. That is James Adam Martinez. My son.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know! I know! WTF right? I have NO idea where this came from either.


End file.
